MY FUCKHEAD: OUR LOVE STORY

This is a personal share of deep love and deep grief. Both deserve their place equally. Somehow, my love for you has only grown deeper since you left this earth. Your attitude is still bringing me so much joy, and what we had can never be compared.

MY HEART IS HEAVY AND IT HURTS!

One of my first blogs was as an open letter to you, my lover, and my friend, the man I put on a flight to start a new life overseas. I loved you, so I did what love does: I supported you, even though it broke me a little. I wanted you to be happy by living your best life and we never loved with control or conditions.

They say, “if you love them, let them go.”

And now here I am, letting you go again. But this time, it’s not on a flight. This time, it’s forever. And my heart doesn’t know what to do with that. So I’m writing to you again, to tell you how you loved me, how we loved each other, how we lived, and what you’ll always mean to me.

In 2010, I was 34, broken-hearted, lost, and terrified of the world. To protect myself, I only let people close if I knew they wouldn’t stay. That way, I couldn’t get hurt. Then I crossed paths with you: barely 24, a 6-foot tradie with piercing green eyes, a cheeky smile, and an even cheekier personality. Ten years younger. FIFO worker. “Safe,” I thought. You’ll be a bit of fun but you couldn’t get too close.

But you did.

You were fun, funny, reckless, a typical fuck-around-and-find-out motorbike rider, unapologetic carnivore, setting fire to shit kind of man, and then you surprised me. You had depth. We had conversations that made me see life differently. You held space for my ugly snot-crying while I navigated a world that scared me. You weren’t just a fleeting moment. You weren’t just a handsome toy-boy and oh boy, I’ll never forget the finger-pointing telling-off I got the one time I called you that, and it never happened again. You became the man who shaped my journey, my healing, my heart, and my growth as a fully expressed and deeply loved woman.

Brodie, you showed me love, care, and protection like no other man ever has. You made choices to protect me even when I didn’t know I needed protecting, and I thank you for that. It’s a quality I yearn to feel again.

When I was told you were gone.

I went completely numb. A rollercoaster of emotions swept through me. The realisation that I’ll never hear your voice again, never feel your lips, never feel your hand gripping mine as we crossed the street.

Was it a shock? No. I knew your battles all too well. I heard you loud and clear when you told me you wouldn’t make 40. And I told you loud and clear that I couldn’t stay close knowing I couldn’t help you. For that, I am so, so sorry. Our disappointments and that regret breaks me.

But am I glad you’re no longer fighting life every day? Yes. I know you’re at peace now. And that brings me comfort. But am I sad? God, yes, my heart is in indescribable pain.

We loved each other for 14 years, and what a ride it was. You put me on a pedestal. You protected me. You made me feel like a queen. I was valued, cared for, supported in my fullest expression even when I was having a meltdown of my disappointments and my upsets. Your love never shifted, and you never made me doubt it. Not once. I always felt the depth of the love you had for me. You've set the bar so high, I don’t know if anyone will ever reach it again.

We did so much together.

All those hippy-whoo-whoo Tantra retreats that brought laughter, tears, and an intimacy that can’t be described in words. A million little things that made us us. You salted my food because you liked salt. You added things to my order because you liked it. We once had to eat a pizza with a spoon, and in complete silence and you definitely know why. You were not a morning person, so I wouldn’t speak to you until midday. You tried to piss me off, but I never bit. You slept in a jumper and undies while I slept naked. You drank beer in the shower and I'd cheekily ask you to leave the door open just a little bit. You rolled your eyes better than anyone when someone said something stupid (including me). You had a sweet tooth. You hated housework. You introduced me to TheXX. You once put petrol in a diesel car, and I never let you forget it. You were far from being silent at a silent retreat. You thought salad was stupid. You were always willing participant in the spiritual things I dragged you into. You never made me get on your motorbike. And, you were a total chick magnet while being humorously uncomfortable when women hit on you. I quietly laughed, knowing they never stood a chance. Because of how highly you held me. Because of how much you loved me. But good on her for having a crack!

And that’s the thing, Brodie. You were loyal like no other to those you loved. And I love you for that and thank you for loving me like you did.

We’re not done, though. I still have love to give you. I’ll carry out your final wishes with honour and with grace. My heart is heavy, the tears come without warning, and laughter at your memory often crumbles into grief. But that’s the price of loving someone this deeply.

We had a million inside jokes, but the one that will stay forever is when I’d tell you you were being a fuckhead. You’d do the signature Brodie smirk and you’d always grin cheekily and say, “Yeah, but I’m your fuckhead.” Yes, yes Brodie, you are!

Until we meet again, know that I love you, I thank you, and you will always, always be 'my' fuckhead. Thank you for everything you did for me and thank you for loving me!

I love you xxx